Darling, I Believe
by cartoon dragons
Summary: Collection of one-shots and drabbles. 03 She's an agent of time and she's a displaced author and it shouldn't really work between them but it does all the same. AU. Bering and Wells
1. Fall

**So this is a drabble dumping ground fic. Not that these are drabbles, actually. Whoops, I got carried away. Anwho, enjoy!**

**-Bo**

* * *

You are an agent. You are strong and capable. You've stared down death with your own two eyes. You've looked at him and you've walked away, pale, sweaty, on the brink and in pain, but you've walked away.

So now you're looking into deep brown eyes that are clouded with pain. Well, you were. The tears that have been building up in your eyes for so long now have spilled, and they're running down your cheeks, blurring your vision and you blink them away angrily.

"No. You are going to stay with me. Stay with me."

You're fairly certain your voice broke but she's somehow managed to smile up at you through her pain.

"Stay with me." You growl once more and she nods before inhaling as deeply as she can and her eyelids begin to flutter.

"Myka." Her rasp brings your attention once more back down to the woman, this woman, lying on the cold stone floor, her life leaving her body in thick red rivulets on the floor. You can feel it all over where your hands are pressed to the gunshot wound in her stomach.

"No. No speaking. Save your strength." You suppose it could have been more authoritative, more demanding had it not been broken by a hiccup. And like the floodgates have been opened you are openly sobbing, kneeling at her side, hands over her stomach and head bowed so your hair surrounds the two of you like a privacy curtain.

You're not sure what you're crying for, really. For what is, was. What could have been? For this wonderful, amazing woman who taught you so much and you taught in return. For this _thing_ that the two of you have. This unspoken thing that keeps you awake some nights, tossing and turning wondering just what could it be.

You look up and meet her gaze. She looks so sad, so upset for you. For you, crying over her, who was shot because she pushed _you _out of the way. Realistically, it should be you lying there. You're bigger, taller, there's more of you. You could take it. You could take the shot and be fine. You wish you could have taken it.

"Myka. Darling."

And it hurts, to hear her in such pain. She's choking over the words, breath coming in ragged gasps in order to be able to voice her thoughts. And so you shake your head and before the rush of a brilliant idea can leave your veins, you lean even closer and kiss her.

It's short, and rather forceful. It's desperate. It's everything you've never been able to say, everything that has been said with small touches and lingering glances. It's an 'I love you' as well as stay with me and I'm sorry and please don't leave me, not again I can't lose you again.

You pull away too soon, mindful of the fact that what little breath you have, she has even less. So you lean back and and watch as her eyes open slowly and a small, yet brilliant smile inches its way across her lips.

"Stay with me." You breathe and she nods.

.

It's Pete who found you. Pete who was supposed to be at the Warehouse, not here in Washington D.C where you pace the tiled floor of the waiting room. Pete, who's vibe had told him that something was wrong, something was going to go wrong and had to do something about it.

"Mykes." The voice is soft at her ear and there's a hand on your arm, gently pulling you away from your pacing and down onto a hard chair beside him.

You can't sit still. There is still adrenaline pumping through your body, making you wide eyed and jumpy. Even though you're sitting still your leg still jumps up and down and up and down until Pete places a hand on your leg and that stops moving too.

Your eyes go to the hand, then follow his arm up until it joins his body, then onto his face where she can see concern and worry and a little bit of fear too. It causes your stomach to clench in response, you were afraid of naming this coiling in your gut. This thought that she wouldn't come out alive.

"Mykes." He's calling your name once more and you can barely look at him, instead you turn your gaze away and nod and snake your hand down your leg to twine with his. It's grounding, you think to yourself as your fingers settle around each others. Someone else is here too, someone else is feeling this churning in the gut which is made worse by the bright fluorescent lights that shine on the tiled floor and the chemicals that invade your nostrils and make you want to sneeze.

He gives your fingers a squeeze, a reassuring, hey she'll be fine, you'll be fine it has to be and suddenly right now seems like a damn good time to tell him everything.

"I kissed her." You confess quietly, eyes ahead, watching the comings and goings of this hospital. You don't see Pete's reaction. You don't even know if he had one. So you continue on before you lose your nerve.

"She was saying my name and she shouldn't have been talking and she sounded so hurt so I kissed her Pete. I kissed her and told her to stay with me and then,"

"Then I showed up."

You nod and exhale shakily. "Yeah." You continue in a small voice. "If you had been any later." Your voice trails off and it doesn't need saying, what would have happened if Pete had been any later. You both know all too well.

A child runs past, bright pink balloon tied around his wrist that proudly proclaims "I'm a big brother!" in cursive writing. He stops and turns around, waiting for his family to catch up. "Come on!" He cries. "I wanna see her!". They're both watching him now, watching as his small legs carry him around the corner and out of sight.

"You love her."

It's a simple statement that's uttered from Pete's lips. And for all your smarts and genius and knowledge, you know now that you do. You've been afraid to give it a name. Because if you name it that means it's here to stay. Like a stray pet you find in your neighborhood. And you've been afraid of loving someone like that again, because you loved Sam, loved him and he died. He died and left this gaping hole where confidence in yourself had been. What if you loved again? Allowed yourself to love like that again.

"I loved Sam and he died Pete. I love her and I don't want her to go too." You sound young, too young. A child's 'don't leave me'. Suddenly you're catching on words. They halt and crash into one another then finally stumble out of your mouth. "Oh god. What, what if Sam was still alive? What about Helena? I love them both, loved them both. How can I do that? How can I do this?" You can feel sweat breaking out on your forehead and on the palms of your hand. You make to let go, to release Pete's hand and wipe it on your jeans but he tightens his grip, trapping your hand within his larger one.

"Myka." And his voice is firm, commanding and you turn your head to meet his gaze. "I loved Kelly. I think I still do, maybe." Here his voice softens and so to does his gaze. "But she made her choice. She moved on. It's not something that I liked, hell you know I hated it. But I can move on. You can move on."

"We'll both move on." She finishes for him, giving him a small smile.

"Sam dying was terrible and you love him Mykes. But you can move on, otherwise you'll just be in this hole of nothing and it's no fun in there Mykes. It's more fun out here, living and loving and such."

And your heart kind of swells and you're pretty sure your smiling at him dopily but you don't really care. "Wow Pete. When did you get so insightful?" You joke lightly. You're glad he's here. So glad, happy, grateful that he had his vibe, that he came to Helena's rescue, that he's Pete. He's Pete and you wouldn't have him any other way.

"Living in this B&B with dozens of women makes you super sensitive. In a manly way of course." He affirms and you chuckle.

You love her, your body sings. You've named it, this thing that you have and you don't know if Helena loves you too but you love her and that's a start.

You give a small sigh and you can feel the adrenaline leaving your body. You suddenly feel weighted, as though your bones are lead and your skin is steel. The chair no longer feels like it can support you and your traitorous eyelids begin to droop. Pete notices. Of course he notices. But he doesn't say a thing, instead shifting in his seat so his shoulder is looking more and more like an enticing pillow. And when you do finally drop your weary head on his shoulder, he gives your hand another squeeze. You don't want to fall asleep. You want to be awake, stay awake and hear good news and stay awake so you can see Helena wake and tell her all this news but your body has decided other things and black clouds your vision. The hand squeeze says sleep, I'll be here, I'm watching out, I'll watch over you both.

.

"Peter?"

The soft voice rouses you from your thoughts and you look down to see and tired and battered H.G staring up at you from the hospital bed. Her already pale skin is as white as a sheet and the dark rings around her eyes make her look haunted.

"You look like a zombie." You offer before leaning over to grasp at the water jug on the side table a nurse had left for their patient. "Water?" you ask, shaking it gently. She nods and you pour her a glass, set the jug down and help her drink as her shaky hands attempt to clutch the glass.

She sighs once she's finished and gives you a small smile. "Thank-you Peter." She intones, still managing to sound put together lying in a hospital after being asleep for two days.

"Pete." You correct her. "Peter sounds so formal and weird."

"Aright then. Pete." And even though you're here in this room, her eyes are darting around, searching searching. So you stand and pull your cell from your jeans pocket and dial the familiar number and she watched you from the bed, eyes curious.

"Pete? Is something wrong? Is everything okay?"

Your partners voice rings from the phone pressed lightly against your ear and rings in the tiny hospital room and you watch as H.G's eyes light up and her whole demeanor changes at the sound of Myka's voice.

"No, no. Everything's fine." You tell her, smile creeping up your face too. You have the most brilliant idea. "Just wondering when you'd hurry up Mykes. I'm starving."

"Oh Pete don't do that!" And if you were there with her you could imagine her stomping her foot. "You're supposed to call when something happens!" You shift your gaze from the machine beeping in the corner to the Victorians smiling face. You raise a single finger to your lips, covering a smile. She looks at you confusedly. "No nothings happened Mykes. I could need to call you for other things you know. Like for food."

"Pete!" She huffs. "I'm in the elevator now ok. I'll be there in less than three minutes." She finishes before the call is cut off sharply. You're a flurry of movement now, knowing when Myka says three minutes, she truly means three minutes. Phone is slid back into its' pocket and you gather you jacket before racing for the door.

"Oh!" You say as you hang off doorframe. "Stay awake. She's coming. And if you hurt her you will have the Petester to deal with." All of this is said in a breath and you can her the bell that signals the elevator arriving at the floor. Without another word you take off, rounding the corner before Myka can see you.

.

You're carefully balancing a cup of tea in one hand, pastries in the other and you try and put your cellphone back in your pocket as you enter the room. It proves fruitless and your phone clatters to the ground and your wondering why Pete hasn't come forward to claim to the food he was so desperate for.

A chuckle from the bed has you looking up and you're meeting bright brown eyes that are most definitely awake and alert. Nothing else matters right now and you refuse to look away and you don't know you're crying until your breath catches in your throat and choking back sobs.

"Helena." You breathe, barely managing to put your things aside before you find yourself at her bedside, hands tightly gripping the railing of the hospital bed. "You're awake."

Helena doesn't speak, she simply nods and hums softly in agreement. Her eyes haven't left yours and you find your lips twitching, growing into this beaming smile you can see being matched upon Helena's don't realize how close you are to one another, how close you seem to have been pulled, like a gravitational pull that you have no control over.

"Darling, I-" And that's all she seems to be able to get out before she decides that there are better things she could be doing with her lips and she's leaning forward and one of her pale hands is pulling at your collar and she's kissing you, all soft lips and _Helena_.

You're a little surprised, but it's a good kind of surprised, and as you kiss her in return you think, yes, this is good.

You've broken apart and your hands are still tightly clutching at the railing and you're breathing heavily. Your faces are barely inches apart and she chuckles once more. You can feel your heart beating so loud it's in you ears and you can feel it thrumming in your fingertips and it's life, it's living and your both living and newfound revelations are beating against closed lips and you blurt.

"I love you."

There's a second worth of silence and if possible, Helena's smile grows even bigger and she's leaning forward once more and this time you meet her halfway, and she's smiling around the kiss and you could live a lifetime simply kissing Helena. Reluctantly pulling apart once more you smile a huff a breath of laughter. "You're injured. Don't strain yourself."

"I love you. Too I mean." And her eyes are bright and her cheeks are flushed and she looks so much more alive than she had the past two days. You open your mouth to tell her she looks beautiful, amazing, lively, but your phone rings.

It's still on the floor, buzzing so much it's moving about on the tiled floor and you fix it with a glare, hoping it will pin it down or shut it up. Helena is laughing softly once more and her hand is resting on your arm and you meet her eyes and smile, then turn with a grumble to answer the blasted phone.

"Mykes!" Pete's voice rings out before you can even say a word. "Am I the worlds best friend or what?". He sounds so pleased with himself, you suddenly realize, for giving you time alone and your sour mood vanishes. "Yes Pete. You are." You agree.

"Good. Well have fun. Take it easy." And before you can berate him he's hung up and you're left staring, mouth agape at your cell. _The nerve._

You return to Helena's side, this time opting to pull the chair closer until you can lean forward and your elbows are resting upon the bed and chin resting in your palms.

"We should call the nurse." You say, not moving from your spot at all.

"We should." She nods, remaining still except to move her hand to join it with yours, pulling it down so it lays on the bed beside her.

And there are things they need to say, words that should be spoken but right now you're content to hold your hand in hers and just watch her face as her lips mouth "I love you".


	2. Touch

**As you may or may not be aware, this story has absolutely no continuity. At all. Whatsoever. Also I don't really write priorities right either. Oops, my bad. Anyway, enjoy!**

**-Bo**

* * *

Helena had explained it to her once, over a cup of tea as they curled into respective sofas in the B&B library. She hadn't meant to ask, meant for it to come out so crassly. Bronze had been running about in her mind for days. She was hoping for tact, to word it better. But the words had left her mouth of their own accord and in the silence that followed, Myka wished she could swallow them back up.

It was darkness and solidarity and so much time spent with her own thoughts and demons and nothing but her mind for company. It was time spent wishing for a body so she could hold her daughter again, for a body to simply have, it was time wishing that things were different, vastly different from the way that fate had played out. It was no awareness, just her in her dark and terrible time machine.

And they didn't say another word for the rest of the night.

.

Helena likes to touch.

She's everywhere, picking up and putting down, turning things over in her hands as a child would. Similar look of delight too, you suppose. She'll pry things apart before you even know whats happening. Pete had foolishly left his laptop in the dining room one evening and come downstairs the next morning to find it in pieces over the dining room table and in the conversation that followed of 'it's not yours no you can't just take apart other peoples things H.G', you realized that it was exactly like a child.

It's not just things either. People too, come under the umbrella of 'things Helena likes to touch'. It's not quite as obvious as with objects. But you have sharp eyes and sharper intelligence. You notice the brushes and the hands on shoulders and when you're peering at an artifact or case files, she's right there, body near yours. Enough so they brush and bump into one another. Enough for human contact.

She's always touching something. Her pale hands are always doing, holding a book, pulling apart something else or holding onto someone else. You can recall a time, a last minute artifact retrieval, where over the young girls hospital bed, Pete placed the old rag doll in the static bag. You can recall her hand on your arm, gripping so tight, as though she would never let you go. You moved your free hand to clasp hers and watched with relief as the young child began to breathe on her own once more.

You can also remember the time when you had pulled Claudia from a locked closet in a deranged victims house. You can remember the fear you felt when you couldn't find her, the man downstairs clutching the old brass cross and screaming about burning witches at the stake. Suddenly there was banging and muffled shouts and Helena wasted no time deftly breaking the lock with her skilled hands before pulling a ruffled Claudia from within. You can almost see the way Helena had pulled her in close with desperate hands that held the younger girl tightly, before pulling her back to check her over, hands never still, always moving and always touching.

And you think you may have it figured out. Maybe.

.

They were in the car, Myka driving home with her hands on the steering wheel and questions on her lips. Those questions had been there for a while, forming and almost asked when she would lose her nerve and remain silent. She wasn't normally this shy? Hesitant about asking a purely curious question.

"You've got that face again." There's a tap of fingers on her thigh and she turns to see a curious face surround by black hair. "Something on your mind?"

"Hologram." She breathes, returning her gaze to the road. "You, I mean. What, how..."

"Odd." She replies, she too looking out of the windshield with a faraway look in her eyes. "I could feel, to an extent. It was sort of this cool rush of air whenever I passed through something. Slightly, well tingly, I suppose. Rather inconvenient."

And they didn't say another word for the rest of the trip.

.

You're both in Alaska in the middle of winter.

You're both on another artifact retrieval, one that has taken you from Juneau to the forests behind a holiday resort and it's shockingly cold. But you've spotted her, the woman who has been wreaking havoc with this artifact and you've leapt from the warm confines of the car and out into the cold night.

Behind you you can hear Helena moving too and you're so solely focused on getting this woman before she harms another that you're not really watching your feet.

Helena has noticed it though. She's shouting your name from the edge of the clearing but you're almost upon her, two strides, one and you've got her. You both go down in a tangle of limbs and the artifact is knocked clear from her hands. It lands several feet away and you leap for it as the woman takes off in the other direction.

The artifact is in your hands and you're shaking out the static bag and dropping it in, turning your face away from the sparks that are emitted. You give pause and then only notice you are alone in the middle of this clearing and Helena is just forward from the tree line, unmoving.

"Helena?" You shout, a little concerned. Why isn't she out here?

The answer comes to with a deep groan that is issued underfoot. The surface underneath you shifts suddenly and you're thrown forward, static bag still tightly clenched between your fingers. The ice shifts and you can hear it as it hisses as air escapes and ice water laps over the ice that had covered the lakes surface.

"Oh."

"Myka!" Helena is still shouting, this time jumping up and down.

"I'm okay!" You cry across the ice, trying to sound assured, brave when you can feel your heart thudding its' panicked rhythm in your chest. You straighten slowly, cautiously, breathing raggedly and watching as it mixes with the frigid air and rises in a pale white cloud in front of your face.

"Okay, okay." You murmur softly to yourself as you shuffle your way over to the bank, careful of where you put your feet as to not slip. You chance a look up and you can see Helena on the bank opposite, hands twisting and turning over one another. They move forwards, like she's reaching out for you then they're back twisting over one another. She's quivering, torn between wanting to move and having to remain on land.

"I'm coming." You call, quieter now because you've made some distance. You can almost make out where her jacket finishes and her scarf begins in the bright winter moonlight when there is a cracking sound, ringing out in the quiet night like a gunshot. You only have a second to raise your gaze from the ice beneath your feet to Helenas' panicked face when the ice splits and you plunge into the water.

.

There were so many words, so many things to describe Helena. Genius, she would think, recalling a time where her quick mind had prevented an artifact taking another victim. Writer, historian, mother, noble, friend. Aggravating also sprang to mind. Followed quickly by beautiful and Myka quickly pushed that thought aside with a shake of her head and a flush of her cheeks. Friend, she repeated firmly in her mind.

She wasn't awake, she supposed. Not fully anyway. Somewhere between deep sleep and wake is where she found herself, content with her thoughts.

.

When you wake, it's slowly. You are aware of little things, one by one they come to you. You are lying down. On a bed most likely. You're warm. It makes a nice change from the freezing cold you were acquainted with earlier.

Cold! Ice, water, Helena!

Your eyes snap open only to be greeted by black. You pause, why is there black hair obscuring you vision? It tickles your nose as you inhale and then you're kind of shocked to _feel _another inhale. Once your mind catches up to the observations you've made, you look past the hair to see Helenas' sleeping face nestled on your chest. Near the crook of your neck her head rests, hand, you realize with a start, is curled loosely on itself and resting over your heart. When she exhales, warm breath is blown against your neck.

You're warm and lying in bed with Helena Wells and you can feel the flush working its traitorous way up your neck.

She shifts, yawns then slowly blinks her eyes open. Your gazes meet and she does nothing but smile softly up at you.

"How are you?" She asks, not moving from where she is. And you don't want her to.

"Good. I think. Warm. What happened."

Her eyes cloud over. "You fell in. I pulled you out. Uh, the resort manager we spoke to had gotten a park ranger and was making rounds, looking out for the woman we told him about. They heard my shouting and came to help."

"We're at the resort?" You ask. It makes sense though. The bed is large and soft, the walls you can make out past Helena's face are a deep burgundy and you can hear a fire crackling from somewhere in the room.

She nods and the motion causes her face to rub against your chest. Like a cat, you catch yourself thinking before you pull your attention back to her. "Snowstorm came in." She snorts at this. "They didn't believe you really needed to go to the hospital, especially in that weather. They put us in this room, I suppose we best talk to them when you wake."

You nod and can feel your body begin to relax. "But not now. I want to sleep."

Helena hums in agreement and your stare at the ceiling for a moment before rolling over onto you side, dislodging Helena from her place upon your chest. She rolls onto the bed beside you, and opens her mouth to speak. "Myka?"

"You. I mean, how are you?"

She crinkles her brow in confusion. "Darling I'm not the one that went for a midnight, mid winter swim. I'm fine."

"Really?" You ask, and you're pushing, you know this.

It was the right push though, as her face falls and she squeezes her eyes shut. "You weren't breathing." She whispers. You're both lying beside one another curled onto your sides, foreheads, hands and knees touching. "I pulled you from the water and you weren't breathing. Patrick, the resort manager had reached us by then. You were ice cold and he pushed me aside. My hands wouldn't work." At this a single tear escapes from her closed eyelid. "You had, I couldn't feel a pulse Myka. You felt cold. Even after he got you breathing again. Even most of the night here, you were still so cold."

"Hey, hey." You soothe, wiping away the tear with your thumb. "You kept me warm. Look at me, I'm alive and not cold."

Helena doesn't respond, instead lifting her hand to run down your side. "Warm." She murmurs before tightly gripping the shirt you're wearing and pulling herself into you. She's warm too, you muse, as she settles, her hands fisted in your shirt and your arms wrapped around her waist. And that's the last thing you think as your body slows down and your eyes drift shut, chin gently resting upon the top of Helenas head.


	3. Time

**Several things. 1) This was a labour of love. I like this one. 2) Zero continuity but you know that. 3) I'M SORRY I CAN'T WRITE SMUT TO SAVE MY LIFE. So you shall not find smut here. I'm sorry, I tried, but my talents lie elsewhere ie. not smut. There are probably other things but I've forgotten.**

**-Bo **

* * *

She can recognize that look almost anywhere

It's equal parts bemusement and panic and wonderment. She sees it every time she takes an agent on their first time jump. She's not stumbling, Myka notices though. She doesn't seem dizzy or overly frightened so she supposes she must have been here for a while.

She's standing on the stone steps that lead down onto the promenade, a flat and wide area, stone fountain in the middle and concrete paths snaking their way through the park. It's a beautiful autumn day and the woman is ahead of her, standing still as the weekend crowd rushes around her, like a rock that parts a rushing stream.

There were no jumps scheduled for today though, as far as she knows. But as she watches the woman, she turns her face to the sky to watch an airplane roar overhead and Myka realizes, she's from the past. Or at least far enough back to not understand what the metal beast is doing cruising through the sky. So she steps down, weaving in and out of families and children with balloons until she is at the woman's side.

"Where are you from?" She asks, employing her jump tone. It is commanding yet soft and reassuring all in the same breath. It took her a few jumps to master and she's proud of the way it sounds.

"London." The woman breathes, turning to face Myka with a brilliant grin. She's seen them so many times before and it is still as contagious as the first time she saw it upon her partners face. But she's cautious here. This woman has jumped from wherever she was into a crowded park. There are ramifications should agents be noticed and Myka has no idea who this woman is.

"Not this time though." Her voice is still that same breathless with excitement, joy at being in a different time. A peaceful time. And she sweeps her gaze around once more. "No, definitely not this time."

"What time then?"

Now she's looking at her in confusion and a little bit of apprehension. "You seem like you've dealt with this a fair bit." Her tone is defensive and her accent is thick and a little bit refreshing from the cacophony of weekend park life and city noise . Myka has no idea what English accents are supposed to sound like and she knows they vary, but this woman sounds rich. Educated, and Myka would even go so far as to say she sounded posh.

"Not this, exactly."

"Similar instances then?"

"Hey." She's a little cross now. "I ask the questions."

The woman raises a brow and crosses her arms defensively across her chest. "Do you now?" She asks, pursing her lips at the Agent before her. Myka mirrors her posture and nods.

"I do. What are you wearing anyway?"

The woman's expression changes from one of annoyance to one of confusion. She peers down at her body before twisting her hips experimentally. "What's wrong with what I'm wearing. Wait, is that really a relevant question?"

Myka huffs a breath, blowing a lock of curly hair from her vision. "No not really." She doesn't look too out of place in her tailored suit pants and crisp white blouse. She looks like an office worker, lawyer or businesswoman in her clothes and Myka feels foolish for asking. Instead she gives the woman a little glare.

"Come on then." She says and without waiting for a response, she grabs the woman's hand and begins to pull her away. There is an indignant cry and suddenly the woman is at her side, twisting her arm to break free from Myka's grip. "I don't think so." She hisses, stilling her arm and tightening her grip. "You are coming with me." The woman ceases her struggling and allows herself to be pulled along, expression similar to that of a disgruntled child.

"The future is so rough." Myka can hear her grumble.

.

Her name is Helena. Helena G. Wells.

That's what she tells the assembled room, large oval desk filled by Regents and senior agents alike. Mrs. Frederic, their section head sits beside Regent Kosan, her expression stern. Myka is sitting in her favored position, middle of the long desk on the left side. Helena is on the opposite side and two seats up from her and her expression is slightly smug. Myka has no idea why.

There's a snort of laughter from her left and she and the rest of the table turn to see young Claudia with her hand at her mouth, holding back giggles. She notes the gazes upon her and shrugs. "What? It's funny. Like HG Wells."

Myka's mouth forms an O shape as she understands the reasoning behind Claudia's laughter. She is not ready for the smug grin on the English womans face to grow even wider at Claudia's statement. "Yes. Just like HG Wells." She intones dryly from across the table and Myka can feel her jaw drop.

"No."

The word slips from her lips and Helena turns her gaze to Mykas. "Why ever not, darling?"

Myka can feel the weight of a dozen stares boring down on her. "HG Wells was man." It's truth, fact that she is saying. The rest of the room believes this too and they switch from Myka to Helena, like an office version of tennis.

She stretches languidly in her chair and Myka is feeling annoyed at this woman once more. "My brother, Charles, provided the face. I wrote those books myself." She finishes proudly, beaming as though she's just won something. But, Myka supposes, she has, sort of. If true, she had just succeeded in exposing yet another historical inaccuracy.

"Why should we believe you?" A Regent further down the table asks. At this Helena scoffs.

"Oh I haven't the foggiest. What could I possibly gain for actually admitting to my own work? I don't even know why I'm here you know. The last thing I knew I was in my fathers store and the next thing I'm here in the future, I don't even know when, you know. Then this woman," at this she gestures at Myka and she responds with a scowl, "is dragging me off to God knows where to be sat here and questioned by you lot! Why should you believe me?!"

She finishes, red faced and chest heaving. Her rant is met with silence until Pete beside her begins to make chirping cricket noises.

"Pete." Myka hisses, elbowing her partner in the side with her elbow. But it seems to have done the trick, for people are moving once more, and the room is filled with quiet murmurs.

"Agents." Regent Kosan intones from the head of the table. His gaze is directed at Myka, Pete and Claudia and they nod and stand. They know what this means, time for the children to leave so the adults can discuss things. They leave the room and Myka is the last out the door, not before she turns to glance at Helena's face before the door swings shut behind her.

.

Her name is Helena G. Wells and she's from the 1890's.

Or that's what she had said.

"Dude, I don't know why you're freaking out so much about her." Claudia calls out from her living room. Myka enters, bowl of popcorn in one hand and shoves Claudia's socked feet off the armrest with the other. " I mean, she has to be telling the truth. What do you have to gain by lying in the future."

"Uh riches. I could lie about being the son of someone famous next time I'm in the future. Who's going to be able to tell me I'm wrong?" Pete pipes up from his position belly down on her floor. "Sides, I got no bad vibes from her. She's cool man." He holds a length of yarn in one hand, food in the other. He makes the yarn twitch and from beneath her sofa Pete the ferret zooms out, grasping the bright yellow string between his little jaws.

"The internet dude. Historical records. That stuff would kinda disprove your wild claims."

"You will not be claiming to be someones illegitimate child next time we are in the future Pete." Myka then places the bowl on the coffee table under which Pete is partially laying and scoops up the little brown ferret with two hands. Pete squeaks once in protest, then, after being held against Myka's chest, settles down. "No more. You're exhausting him."

"But Mykes! We were having fun, me and my mini-me." Pete whines, reaching for her pet with grabby hands. Claudia intervenes, pushing the bowl of popcorn under his nose for a moment before sharply pulling it away, laughing all the while.

"Hey! Watch the popcorn and the carpet!" She cries, but to no avail. Pete is already up on his feet, chasing the teen around her apartment, both sliding around with socked feet on wooden floors, growling and shouting all the while.

"My neighbors must hate me." She mutters to herself. The doorbell rings and Pete lifts his sleepy head from her chest at the noise. Absentmindedly she pets him as she makes her way to the front door, opening it to reveal an ashamed looking Steven Jinks. He shrugs sheepishly and reveals a shopping bag laden with food that would be better suited for a child's sleepover party.

"Sorry I'm late."

There is a crash, the sound of metal ringing out on her wooden floors. Myka cringes then sighs and raises her head to meet Steve's happy gaze. She motions him in with a wave of her hand and he steps over the threshold before raising the bag over his head. "I come bearing gifts!" He cries and there is a seconds silence before there is a squeal and a happy shout.

"Jinksy man, back from holidays! How were they? Good? Meet any cute guys?" Claudia and Pete have surrounded the young man and Myka has no intention of saving him. She shuts the door and makes her way to her study, placing the now sleeping ferret within his cage. She strokes soft fur and remembers finding the little kit on her first day home from work. They had worked late and Pete, for all his annoying tendencies and quirks, had been enough of a gentleman to offer to take her home. She had been running the short distance from car to the awning of her apartment building in the thundering rain when she spotted the poor creature, huddled up on the steps, trying to get away from the driving rain.

There is another loud crash from out in her apartment, and then all she can hear is sounds of panic.

"Oh man, clean it up, quick!

.

There had been folders and files that needed to be elsewhere and she leapt at the chance to leave her workstation for a walk around the building.

She's poked her head into Dr. Calder's office but the woman wasn't there. Myka pulls back from the doorway and thinks for a moment before setting off in the direction of the lower level labs, files for the doctor clenched in her hand. If she isn't in the lower levels then she'll page her for her whereabouts.

She's checked lab one and it's empty, lights off and doors shut. So she's almost at lab two when she hears voices. They're low, slightly muted but Myka could make out Dr. Calder's voice from rooms away. Another voice responds, tone oh so familiar and she can feel her eye twitch.

"Ah, Agent Bering. Come to join us?"

The tone is jovial and polite enough but it still makes her grind her teeth in response. She looks up to see Helena and Dr. Calder sitting at one of the work benches in the spacious room. Well Helena is sitting. Dr. Calder is standing beside her, hands busy with her work that is spread out on the bench before them. She sighs and enters the room, ignoring Helena's mockingly sweet smile and places the folders gently on the desk near the doctor.

"Here to bring something to Dr. Calder." She answers the Victorian, tone decidedly neutral.

"Ah, Myka. Thank you." Vanessa looks up from where she is bent over her work and smiles warmly at her. Myka finds herself grinning in response, she always had a soft spot for the agents doctor. She waves her hand over her cluttered bench space. "As you can see, it's a little messy. But thank you for running these down to me."

"It was no problem." Myka clasps her hands behind her and rocks back on her heels. Any excuse to get out of the bullpen the agents share is a good one.

"Running errands Agent Bering?"

Her expressions slips from one of happiness to one of annoyance in that second it takes for her to switch her gaze to the Englishwoman sitting in the stool. She grins like a cheeky child and rocks slightly from side to side, gaze never leaving Myka's.

"Hardly. What's our visiting Victorian doing today? Being a lab rat?" Myka has no idea where the childishness is coming from, the biting remarks and quips that they have been throwing at one another for the past couple of days have not abated in the slightest. Being in the other womans presence makes her heart race and cheeks flush and it annoys her to no end.

"Visiting author darling." She drawls in that accent that is both enticing and aggravating at the same time. "I am HG Wells."

"Your ego is the size of Britain." Myka mutters, drawing a laugh from Vanessa.

"This time-traveling Brit is getting inoculated today." Dr. Calder answers for her, pulling her arm aside to reveal many needles that are arranged under the bright lights of the lab. She raises her hand, needle in place and gives the plunger a tiny, experimental push. Myka watches as Helena's eyes narrow at the needle and she pulls a face.

Realization dawns on Myka and she stifles a giggle at the expression on Helena's face. "How many needles is that?" She asks, smirking.

"Quite a few." Helena notices her smile and her expression darkens. "What?" She snaps.

"Oh, nothing. I mean, the great HG Wells afraid of needles?" She can't hold it in anymore and she snickers.

"HG Wells is an author. Not a doctor." She states moodily in her haughty tone and falls silent as Vanessa approaches, needle in hand. She swabs over the area and leans over, gently grasping Helena's shoulder with a practiced hand. Helena's eyes squeeze shut and the jab is over in seconds. Vanessa is affixing a cotton ball and jokingly enquiring about lollipops when her pager buzzes noisily on the bench. She makes her way over, reads the incoming message and her head jerks up.

"Myka. Are you busy?" She asks, already moving about, gathering papers into stacks and placing equipment back into bags.

"No. Not really. Why?"

"I'm needed elsewhere. An agent had an unfortunate run in with an angry settlers mob. Something about a pitchfork. I need to get to him. Can you watch Miss Wells here?"And Myka is gaping. _Watch Miss Wells?_ She can barely spend five minutes in the other womans presence without her temper hitting the roof. Her mouth opens and closes comically and Dr. Calder takes the silence as an agreement. "Thank you Myka. I'll return shortly." And she gathers her bag and is out the door before Myka can rectify her silent agreement.

She huffs in annoyance and briefly considers stomping her foot to show her displeasure at the circumstances. Behind her there is a breath of laughter and she whirls around, retort ready on her lips but it dies at the sight of the other woman. She is bent over, one hand loosely curled around her upper arm, the other cradling her head. She laughs once more but doesn't move.

In the few short days she's know this woman, Myka doesn't think she's ever seen her still. She's always moving and talking and doing, embracing this new 21st century life with an abundance of joy. This 19th century woman seems larger than life sometimes. But now she's still and Myka is unsure. She knows why she's been left here to watch over her, different people have different reactions to needles. So she slowly pulls up a stool, the screech of metal legs on the floor reverberating around the otherwise silent room. She settles into it, sitting beside the silent woman and she simply watches her back move with every breath she takes.

"My Christina hated needles. Loathed them. I think she got that from me." Her voice is soft, muffled by her hand and hair.

And Myka has spent the past days being annoyed by Helena that she hasn't stopped to think, to realize that Helena would have had a family, being pulled forward by such an unexpected jump meant she would have left behind her old life, family and friends so suddenly.

"Daughter?" Myka ventures a guess and is disheartened to realize that she is correct when Helena nods slightly.

"Yes." Her voice breaks a little and Myka is left wondering why this woman is admitting this, telling her all these things when it had been evident to all over the three days that they didn't get along quite well.

"You're here. You can't return to your time?" Really, now that she's thinking about it, it is terribly unfair. The jump that brought Helena here had been an accident. The JSI had been left, behind, sitting in an antique shop just outside of London. Anyone could have grabbed it, activated it so it pulled the person through. They have a displaced world renowned author and they're not going to send her back?

"I don't really want to return back to my time." She answers softly.

"But your family. Christina." She tries. How could this woman not want to return?

"There is no Christina to return to." Helena informs her, finally raising her head and Myka can see unshed tears in her eyes. "She died, a few years ago. Well much more now. She was the only family I truly cared for."

Myka can do little but nod, the womans' story of loss dredging up memories she'd rather stay down. The stages of grieving, the guilt and self doubt and the inevitable acceptance that they were gone.

"I was before my time. I loved when I grew up but as I got older I realized that that time truly wasn't the right one for me." At this she gives a little hiccup. "I mean, it's not like I went out searching for a time machine explicitly. But should one be presented to me, I wouldn't have said no. And I went out to visit my parents and I was down in the shop and the next thing I know, I'm in this park and there are so many people, and it's all so bright and new. So I've asked, and the Regents are deliberating whether they should let me stay on and become and agent here. I mean, they already know I'm brilliant."

At this Myka allows herself a small smile and nods slightly. She can remember times as a child, curled up under her blanket, flashlight in hand and HG Wells novel in her other as she read well into the night. She can remember being fascinated, her young twelve year old mind amazed at these worlds, all these things that this wonderful man had dreamt up.

"What?" Helena is looking at her but it's a different look from the past two days. It's not teasing or smug and annoying. It's sincere and happy and a little bit confused.

"Oh nothing, it's just, I used to read your books when I was younger. A lot, actually."

Her small sad smile grows at this confession. "Oh did you now? Do I have a fan?"

"Shut it Wells." She grumbles but smiles all the while. Silence descends once more and the two women simply sit side by side.

"I'm sorry, about your little girl." And it's little more than a whisper, a soft condolence in a bright lab with humming lights.

.

They're standing in one of the jump rooms, a twenty by twenty room with black tiles underfoot and harsh white walls. The fluorescent lights give the room a bright contrast between light and dark and staring at it for too long makes her head hurt.

It's been a couple of weeks since Helena had arrived. The famous author had spent those weeks regaling all who would listen stories of her time. And as Helena was a natural storyteller, and Myka found herself spending more and more time with the other woman. Her agent status had been accepted, a title she wore with pride. Still, she had not jumped yet and couldn't do more than the paperwork that all agents were required to do. But with such a quick mind and tendency to fool about and ignore her work, she had taken to trailing after Myka during the day. Pete likened it to a puppy, the way that Helena was more than eager to help Myka out in her day to day work yet conveniently ignoring her own.

And now it's jump day. Her JSI is strapped to her wrist, its small silver shell no larger than a small paperweight. It's not heavy, it has a slight weight to it but she's long since gotten used to the feeling of the strap digging into her skin as she moves about.

"Okay so here, yeah just over your pulse point." Myka pointed to her own JSI, or Jessie's as Pete fondly called them, showing Helena where to affix the strap. The Brit attempted to do it but her actions were slow and Myka found herself huffing in frustration as she grabbed her hand and pulled it aside, instead using her own fingers to correctly position the instrument.

Myka was hunched over Helena's arm and Helena straightened and expelled a huff of air. "I don't see why it needs to be so perfect. I simply held one and it managed to get me here alright."

Strap finally fixed, Myka straightened to look eye to eye with Helena. "It wasn't fixed properly on an agent. It slipped and the JSI stopped reading a pulse. It pulled him from the jump too soon and he got lost."

Helena is quiet now, watching the emotions that flicker across Mykas face. She swallows and notes that the other womans hand is tightly grasping her wrist. "Lost how?" She enquires gently, knowing that this is thin ice she is treading upon.

"He got pulled into a different time. We don't know. We spent ages looking for him but we didn't know what time he was in. There is a lot, a lot of time to search. We didn't have the manpower or resources to keep looking for him."

The only sound in the room is breathing and Helena licks her lips before opening her lips to speak. "I'm sorry."

"Don't be. It's not your fault. Just, wear the thing correctly, alright?" And Myka looks down at their joined arms and a flush rises up her cheeks before she releases her arm and steps back with a muttered "Sorry."

Helena nods and lightly taps the little silver shell. The smooth round edge sits on the inside of her wrist, similar to a watch worn backwards with the face pointing in. It bumps against her thigh when she moves her arm down by her side, testing the feel of it on her body. She looks up and Myka's already looking at her, face devoid of emotion, instead replaced with a collected calm that instantly soothes Helena's fluttering nerves. It's silly, she's jumped before. Albeit, it had been accidental, but the feeling was the same she supposed.

"Ready?"

And Helena nods and they're both pressing their thumbs against the shell and there is a rushing that fills her ears and her body moves forward, like she's standing still and then she's falling face-first. Then her body jerks, like someone has grabbed the back of her shirt to prevent the fall and when she opens her eyes she is no longer surrounded by white walls.

Instead her vision is filled with green.

They stand upon a small hill that then opens into a small grassy field. The air is warm, much warmer than it had been of her first jump into autumn. A breeze flows through and she can't detect a trace of the smell she had become accustomed to over the past month. Instead there was the hint of spring, flowers in bloom and the smell that accompanied countryside. At the edge of the field, just before the tree line, Helena can make out a house. It is a small stone building, at least two stories with a chimney rising from the side that is belching out smoke.

And it's amazing and bewildering and fantastic that she can move about like this. From time to time in such a manner.

Myka is watching her, watching the same look she had seen on this strange womans' face in the middle of a park cross Helena's. It is bemusement and panic and wonderment. And it causes her to smile.

.

"So I'm still the same age?"

"Yes. Time is, well hard to explain. But when you jump, you are the same age as when you jumped."

"So I jumped at 34."

"Even if you land fifteen years into the future, you will still be 34. Every day that you live after the jump then adds onto your age."

Several missions and two months later, the Victorian still hasn't quite grasped the concept of time jumping and the effect that it has on the agents body's. Helena is silent for a moment, thinking the words over in her head. "So if I spent four days in the jump, as you call it, when I return to this time, I would be 34 and four days more?"

At this Myka laughs softly. The two are curled up in the break room, a name given to the series of rooms that are scattered about the building. They are spacious, normally adorned with sofas and bookshelves by the dozen. Myka's not sure how many there really are, and even Claudia has given up trying to document them all. They seem to move, not really being in exact same place when you left it. But should you need one, then the person seeking the room would surely find it without much hassle. Pete had told Helena, "The trick is to not look for it. They sorta just, show up."

"No, nothing like that. Time sort of, starts over." She wrinkles her nose at the poor explanation she offers. "Once the jump is over, you return to your time and live from there. Any time spent in the jump sort of, gets wiped out."

"So agents live longer? I mean, you could spend years in another time, aging as you would in normal time, then return to this time and simply live all that time over once more! Think of the average age, all together I mean. Certainly not linear time, from birth to eventual death. But jumps, think, if you simply added all that time spent in jumps, lifespans must be huge!"

Myka nods, then lowers her gaze to her book in hand. Helena falls silent and watches for a moment, then places her own book on the armrest and stands, making her way over to her fellow agent. Myka lifts her gaze, watches the author advance, then quickly flicks her gaze down as Helena kneels before her.

"Myka."

Myka gives her head a small shake and refuses to look up. Helena gives a little laugh, then reaches forward to gently tug the book away. Myka still won't look at her, instead clasping her hands together in her lap and staring at them moodily.

"Darling, I'm not going to move from here. You know how persistent I can be."

Myka sighs in resignation. "You're not from this time." Her voice is small, unsure.

Helena quirks an eyebrow. "I am aware of that."

At this Myka's head shoots up and her gaze is dark. "This isn't your time Helena. This is a jump for you."

Helena is even more puzzled. "Yes I know that. Why does that bother you so?"

"Because!" Suddenly Myka explodes into movement. She leaps from the sofa, away from Helena's hands that had been tracing small patterns on her knee and begins to pace around the room. "This is added time for you Helena. This is a jump, it doesn't count! This all gets reset when you go back. It's all time that doesn't really matter!"

Still kneeling on the floor, Helena watches as her chest heaves and she runs agitated hands through already messy hair. And suddenly it clicks. So slowly she stands and makes her way toward to agent, arms outstretched. She stands before her and slowly, oh so slowly puts her hands on Myka's shoulders, stilling her frantic movement.

"Myka." Her voice is comforting yet firm, a jump tone and Myka quirks her lip.

"Sorry." Her head drops a little so she's staring at the floor between them. "I didn't-"

But whatever she was about to say is cut off. "This isn't wasted time for me Myka." Helena's voice breaks the tiniest bit and at this she raises her head and looks up. "I have no intentions of going back. I do, however, have every intention of aging in this time. This isn't just a jump for me Myka. I will live in this time and die in this time. After all, death is rather permanent."

Myka nods and after a noisy exhale, steps into the warm embrace of Helena's arms. She wraps her arms around the smaller womans waist and buries her head in her shoulder. "Sorry." is mumbled against her collar bone and Helena's arms tighten in response.

"All is forgiven."

.

There is a squeal and muffled curse, followed by what sounds suspiciously like 'shhh' and Claudia exits the kitchen, smudge of cookie dough on her cheek. It's a credit to how many times she's put up with this before that Myka doesn't even blink. Instead, she merely calls out over her shoulder "You better clean it up!" as she makes her way from her spare bedroom to the lounge.

"Why is is always my place?" She grumbles good-naturedly, depositing Petes' clothing he had left behind on numerous occasions with a thump on his lap.

"Yours is closer. To like, everything. Pizza and Thai are just around the corner." Comes his muffled response as he holds his old shirt to his face, giving it an experimental whiff. "Hey you washed it!"

"Of course I did Pete."

"Well we can't do mine anymore. I got noise complaints, remember?" Claudia states, flopping herself on the couch with a groan. Myka pushes her feet off the armrest. "I'm fairly certain your place is super duper soundproof. Jinks is making cookies. I'd make sure you have the fire department on standby."

"Hey!" Comes the indignant cry from the kitchen. "I can cook!"

"You can't tell your own lie?" Claudia cries back, then yelps as a dishcloth hits her squarely in the back of the head, sending her short hair flying about her head. She grabs it and hurls it back. "That was gross!"

Suddenly the doorbell rings throughout the apartment and Pete leaps from his seat like a rocket. "Pizza!" He cries before rushing toward the door. Claudia rolls off the sofa, using the back of her furniture as defense, only appearing in Jinks's line of sight as she quickly pokes her head around the sofa to poke out her tongue at him. Myka sighs and begins to stand to grab herself a drink when Pete re-appears.

"No, not pizza."

And Myka looks and can feel her words catch in her throat. Because Helena is standing behind him, smiling hesitantly. But Myka's not looking at her face. Instead her gaze is caught on the low cut top with a leather jacket and tight jeans and knee high boots and when she does eventually look up, Helena's gaze is knowing and smug. So she flushes bright red and quickly makes her escape to the kitchen, grabbing a glass of water and chugging it down.

"Woo H.G. Rocking the 21st Century fashion I see. Looking good." Claudia's praises do little to soothe the churning in Mykas' stomach.

"Thank you darling. It seems a few people do enjoy my taste in clothing."

Myka chokes on her drink and Jinks is suddenly at her side, concern on his face. "You okay?" He queries and she nods, gulping down lungfuls of air. She forgot he was in the kitchen as well. He turns to the sound of Helena's voice and gives her a knowing grin. "So H.G's here." He begins.

"Shut up Jinks." Myka grumbles and makes her quick escape. Everyone in her house is out to get her.

The pizza finally arrived and they are situated around her t.v, watching as the all too familiar credits begin their famous ascent up the screen. Claudia and Petes aghast faces when Helena had told them she had no idea what a star wars was had sealed the movie for the night. So Myka's curled into the sofa, occasionally brushing over Claudia's bright hair as she leans forward to grab another slice. Helena is at the opposite end, Pete being kicked out by the Brit who refused point blank to sit on the floor. So Pete is now on the floor, leaning against the armchair where Jinks is relaxing, food in one hand yarn in the other. Myka looks down at him and growls.

"Pete I swear to god."

Pete looks up at her and grins. "Which Pete?"

Helena looks confused. "Another Peter?" Her question is answered when a small brown blur suddenly leaps onto Helena's chest as a jumping board to get to Myka. She squeals and Pete is thrown unceremoniously into Myka's lap.

Helena's eyes are wide and everyone else is laughing. "What was that?!"

Myka chuckles and picks up her small pet, smiling as he nuzzles into her neck. "This is Pete. Pete, this is Helena." She removes him from her chest and holds him out, watching as he sniffs the air. Helena looks intrigued and leans forward.

"What on earth is it?"

"A ferret."

"How odd." But she reaches out and takes Myka's pet, fingers brushing as Pete is swapped from hands to hands and Myka ignores the tingling that runs up her arms from the contact. She pulls the animal closer, soon close enough so that they are nose to nose. She crinkles her nose and laughs at his twitching whiskers and her pet is moving, wet nose touching her own.

"Aww," Claudia coos from the floor. "Little kisses from Pete!"

"Now two kisses from Pete." Jinks adds and the two laugh loudly.

Myka can remember the day when Pete and Helena had walked into bullpen after a mission, Pete smirking and Helena murderous. Pete had jauntily walked off to his workstation with a cheery whistle whilst Helena had made her way over to hers, glaring at the retreating agents back.

"I had to kiss him." She growls out.

And it wasn't jealousy then and it's not jealousy now, Myka tells herself as the sudden desire to growl at Pete resurfaces as it had on that day. It's not jealousy, she tells herself as her palms sweat and she forces her attention on the movie because Pete and Jinks and Claudia are laughing and Helena looks down on them with an upturned nose.

"Kisses from this Pete far surpass the one from the other Pete." She announces, petting the small animal that is curled up on her lap.

"Oh, outdone by a ferret man!"

"Yeah yeah, alright let's watch the movie." Pete takes the dig with a smile and successfully diverts everyones attention back to the screen.

And Myka chances a look at Helena, the faint blue light illuminating the small smile on her lips and gaze on the screen, gently petting the curled up pet in her lap.

.

They are to land in Paris.

Paris in 1902 to be precise.

Myka had read the dossier quickly, glancing eyes taking in all the information she needed. Modified protection detail was what she gleaned from the numerous sheets of papers. She closed her folder and glanced around the room. Jinks was seated at the desk, Helena beside him as Pete leaned against the wall nearby.

"You understand what you are to do?" The group nodded and Mrs. Frederic inclined her head. "Then off to the labs."

Myka watched though, as Helena handed her folder back, as her eyes darkened slightly and her expression soured before she slipped on a neutral expression and walked out the door. But before she could pull her aside and voice her concerns to the other woman, they were moving, off to Dr. Calder for a pre-jump checkup then off to JR.3 where their JSIs' were presented to them wordlessly by a Regent.

Pete does his usual pre-jump routine, bouncing slightly on the spot and rolling his shoulders around. Myka flexes her fingers and Jinks and Helena remain still. So it's Pete, Claudia, Helena and herself, standing around in a loose circle in the wide, otherwise empty room. And although Helena is standing closest to her side, she says nothing. Instead she looks up to the room at large and nods, before she pushes her thumb to the shell and she is moving, falling then jerking and arriving in a dusty attic in Paris.

From there it is quick business. Pete briefs the sitter and he nods before moving off to find them time-appropriate clothing. So she stands in the room the sitter had shown them towards, back to the door. And it's certainly not the first time she's found herself in such a dress and it probably won't be the last but Myka still struggles with the lace and the sheer amount of fabric she has to maneuver around her body. She reaches behind her, fingers grasping for hold when a hand is placed gently over hers.

"Here, allow me."

And she falls silent as Helena's deft fingers loop lace through holes and fixes her skirt until she is gently pulling and pushing, turning Myka around so they face one another.

Helena smiles. "See? All done."

But Myka says nothing. The authors dress is a dark blue, with a rather deep neckline and tight corset that makes no mistake where the gaze should be drawn towards. Its skirt is pinned in numerous places and it sways about her body as she moves forward to fuss at Myka's collar. Her body and face is near her own and Myka has found herself unable to speak. Instead she opens her mouth once, twice and Helena pulls back and chuckles.

"Shallow breathing darling. These aren't the most comfortable."

But Helena looks most comfortable in her dress, she moves about as though she's lived in them her entire life and, Myka realizes with a start, she has. But she certainly doesn't feel like explaining that it's not her dress that is causing her to lose her breath. So instead she nods and moves to gather their coats, pausing to hand Helena's to hers and she holds the door for Myka.

Pete gives a long whistle as the two enter the room. Myka grins and punches him in the arm. "Shut it." She mutters.

Jinks, ever the perfect gentleman, steps forward and takes Helena's coat from her before offering his arm for her to hold, as per the times would dictate. She smiles and steps forward before they both turn to look expectantly at Pete and Myka.

Pete shakes his head and does the same for Myka. "Chivalry." He announces. "Never go wrong with chivalry."

"Is that why you've managed to be so popular with the ladies at home?" Jinks jokingly enquires and Myka laughs.

Pete pulls a face and whines and Helena opens her mouth to speak. "I'm sure I could be of assistance Peter. I know a thing or two of the opposite sex. Many of my lovers were men."

And Jinks is looking at her something similar to wonderment, Pete pulls a face and Myka simply smiles and shakes her head and tries her damnedest to ignore the singing feeling that is flowing through her veins.

They head off for the party, each leaving the sitters home in pairs before setting off down the old street. Myka herself grips Pete's arm as they arrive, putting on a sweet smile for the butler at the door, looking every bit the part of the married 19th century woman. But as soon as they are out of sight she breaks free from Pete, surreptitiously scanning the room for their mark. There is a ruffling by her side and Jinks steps up beside her.

"I can't see him." He mutters under his breath in english. Myka nods. Whilst all four of them are fluent in numerous languages, english is their preferred method of communication when on a mission such as this one. Around them, partygoers chatter on in french, unaware of the meeting that is taking place here this evening. One the four agents are here to ensure goes off without a hitch.

"I'll check around in the house." She whispers, their mark is not in the ballroom. She begins to move off, but stops when she sees Helena standing stock still in a sea of movement. Her face is more pale than usual, shock written over every feature and Myka cares for nothing else right in this moment and she's moving, picking up her skirts and quickly making her way to her side.

"Helena?"

She doesn't respond. So Myka reaches out to grasps her arm. As soon as she touches her, Helena moves. She is lightning fast, leaping away from Myka's outstretched hand like a wounded animal. Her gaze is wild, unfocused. Myka stills, arm frozen mid-air as she waits for Helena to collect herself.

And she does, after a few seconds of labored breathing her eyes begin to focus and she looks at Myka with shock. "Myka?"

"What's wrong?"

She is silent, then "I saw him."

"Who? Who did you see Helena?" Their mark, someone from her past? Helenas' answer is silence and Myka begins to grow agitated. Who? Where?

"The man who killed Christina."

She whips up her head as though she expects to find him standing behind her. But behind her is nothing but air, the small alcove they are in shields them from prying eyes. So she looks back to this woman she's come to count as a close friend. Her expression part frazzled, part murderous so she places her hands upon her shoulders. She knows how her daughter had died. Robbery at her cousins home in Paris, thugs and a nanny who had attempted to stop them. A broken mother left without her daughter.

"Everybody get down!"

There is the crack of a gunshot then screams. The two women move, rounding the corner and are greeted by chaos.

People are everywhere and moving in every direction. Men are shouting, women screaming and through the thick of it all Myka can make out the familiar shape of her partners back, bounding up the small flight of stairs and into the main house. So she reaches behind her and blindly grabs Helena's hand before pulling her though the crowd and into the house.

Next time, she is wearing a suit.

Or something less restrictive, making her able to run without losing her breath quite so much. But she can make out shouting up ahead. They round the corner and skid to a halt on tiled floors. Their mark is on the floor, beaten and bloody and empty-handed. "De cette façon! Il est parti par là!" He cries, gesturing wildly with one arm in the direction she can assume the papers he had in his possession went . There is a cry of pain then a thump and Myka looks around to see Pete standing over a fallen man. He glances back at them, then forward to an approaching man who is charging at Pete.

"Go!" He cries and Myka suddenly finds herself being pulled along, a warm hand encasing her own. She is running, one hand holding her skirts when an arm is suddenly in her path. She can no more move around it than she can stop herself from running into it so she makes painful contact, air driving from her lungs. She hits the floor with a pained gasp and her vision swims. When she feels she can open her eyes and see she does, and finds herself staring up at the barrel of a gun and a man, sneering down at her around his thin mustache.

"Americans." He spits out in heavily accented english. But it's not him that has her attention, it's the growl that is issued some feet to her left. She turns her head and can make out Helena, tall imposing Helena from her vantage point. Helena who looks like she's ready to kill.

"You."

"You."

They've both threatened in unison, both glaring at one another until the man breaks into laughter. It is cruel and resonates along the empty hall. His gun hand twitches above her and Helena flinches. He laughs once more. "You. I remember you. Crying in the street."

Helena growls and takes a menacing step forward. The man twitches his gun once more, it's barrel dark and lethal above Myka's face. The action stops Helena in her tracks. "I think not. I will shoot her. I have no qualms taking lives. As you are probably all too aware."

Helena is silent and the realization washes over Myka like ice water. She knows who this man is now. She knows what he means to Helena. She knows how much Helena hates him, loathes him, wants him dead. She is not one to sit idly by, to be the damsel in need of saving. So the second she sees her chance, she kicks her leg out, hitting the man on his inner knee, hard. He howls in pain and it gives her a chance to move, to push her arms up and hit him squarely in his chest. He topples over, a mess of flailing limbs and she's moving, pushing herself away. There are hands under her arms, pulling her away and up and she's stumbling against Helena's side, her arms the only thing keeping her steady as her quick ascent causes her head to swim. But there is a curse, a groan and a shot that rings out loudly in the hall. Then there is pain, hands pushing hard against her side and a sharp shooting pain that erupts in her skull from the contact made with the wall. A laugh, a furious cry and she's falling heavily against the wall. There is a shout, a cry of pain then another shot rings out in the now silent house.

"Helena?"

She stands, gun held loosely in her hands over the man, whose eyes are open in a glassy stare, remnants of a sneer forever left upon his now silent lips

She turns to face her and there is shock and relief and an infinite sadness etched upon her face. The gun clatters to the floor and she is rushing forward, trembling hands pushing back hair from her face.

"Are you okay? Were you hurt? Were you shot?"

Myka shakes her head. And Helena nods and gives a choked sob and Myka's hands are in her hair now, holding the other woman close as she cries into her chest.

.

She juggles the bags around in her arms, fishing her keys from her pocket as she suddenly dives forward, keeping an errant apple in the plastic bag. Behind her Helena laughs and she growls.

"Hush you." She mutters and Helena only hums. "Aha!" She cries, finally feeling the cool metal under her fingers. She turns them in the lock and pushes the door open with her foot, then holding it open with her hip and makes a sweeping gesture with her head. Helena does that thing where she manages to look graceful even carrying several bags of groceries and moves past her.

"What did the landlord want?" She asks, following her into the kitchen and placing the bags down on the counter. At this, Helena sighs and begins to remove things from bags and place them away haphazardly into cupboards and Myka can't find the heart to stop her. "The water main is still leaking. It seems I shall be here for another couple of days, at least. My floor, why does it have to be my floor?" She grumbles, looking at Myka as though she knows. "Not that I'm complaining too much. You are most pleasant company." Myka smiles at her comment then shrugs and clears the bags aside so she can sit upon the counter, legs swinging above the floor.

Helena stops and shoots her a look, placing a hand on her hip. "Are you just going to sit there and watch?"

Myka grins like a child. "Yes I am. And I have no idea why it's your floor. The universe hates you."

Helena snorts, leaning over to place tins in the far back of the cupboard on one of the lower shelves. "The universe cannot hate me." She calls back, voice muffled. She pulls her head out and sits back on her heels, surveying her progress so far. She turns to Myka, wide smile on her face. "See, I know where things go." She motions with her hand to the tins before her.

But Myka isn't looking at her. Instead her gaze is firmly planted on the ceiling, revealing the column of her throat which is a deep red. "Hmm?" She asks, swinging her gaze down to Helena's now smirking face. She flushes once more. "What?"

"What is ever so appealing about the ceiling darling?" She teases, slowly standing and making her way to stand before the other woman.

"N-nothing. Nothing, uh, interesting at all, you'll find." She motions upwards with a shaky hand and Helena looks up to humor her. Turning her gaze back down, she smiles at the expression on Myka's face, similar to a cornered animal.

"Well fancy that. Nothing of interest up there at all." Her voice is deep, deeper than should be legal, especially with that accent, Myka manages to think briefly. She standing between her legs now, long pale fingers playing with the belt loops of her jeans. There's this thing in the air, this charge and feeling and it makes her heart race and palms sweat and her tongue dry. Every part of her body is hyper sensitive. She licks her lips and Helena smirks. She's close now, enough so they are barely a hairs-breadth away from one another, too close and she can feel her mind begin to short-circuit so Myka does what she does best.

"Beauty is in the heart of the beholder." She blurts and Helena stills.

Silence falls and Myka can hear the beating of her furious heart in her ears and she wonders if she's gone and wonderfully screwed things up.

But this wonderful smile is creeping along her face, suddenly it's this bright beaming smile and Myka finds herself smiling back.

"Did you just quote me?" Her tone is filled with wonderment.

"Maybe. Just a little." She shrugs sheepishly and shows how little she means with her thumb and her forefinger and squirms in her spot, letting her hand drop away. And there's a huff of breath of laughter across her bare collarbones and Helena is still playing with her belt loops.

"You are quite amazing, Myka Bering." She murmurs reverently into the tiny space between them.

"You think so?"

"I know so. You know what else I know?"

Myka grins. "You know a lot of things, H.G Wells."

Helena laughs quietly. "I know I would quite like to kiss you."

And Myka nods, leaning forward to quickly close the little remaining space between them and presses her lips to Helenas. It's over far too soon as Helena pulls away and Myka whines.

Helena's breathless and a single finger is placed over her lips. "I wanted to kiss you darling. Not the other way around."

Myka raises a brow. "You really want to get into the semantics right now?"

And Helena is shaking her head no and moving forward, lips coming together once more, hand running down her face to gently cup her jaw. Myka's hands are fisting in her shirt, pulling her closer so they are touching, body to body and she sighs around the kiss. All too soon it ends, and they pull away but remain close, breaths mingling. Their gazes meet and Myka laughs.

"What's so amusing?"

"I just kissed H.G Wells." She giggles a little before resting her forehead against hers. "Twice."

At this Helena leans forward and kisses her once more, quickly then pulls away. "Three times."

She giggles once more before pulling her in closer again, harder, more forceful this time. It's tongue and teeth and grasping hands and gasps and Helena has no intentions of resurfacing.

.

It had been more than a couple of days for the water main to be fixed and the damage done to the apartments rectified. But by that time Helena had made a nice little niche in Myka's apartment and seemed quite content to remain there. Truthfully, Myka didn't want her to leave.

They had woken late, Helena curled into the warm embrace of Mykas arms. They had ignored the alarm clock twice, only moving when Mykas cell buzzed insistently on the bedside table she could distinctly remember bumping into the night before. She groaned, releasing Helena from her grasp to roll over and make blind reaches for the irritating object.

"What?" Helena moves with her in her half sleep, unwillingly to let go of the warmth that she had been sleeping with. She shuffles over and curls into Mykas side.

"Oops, did I wake you?"

"Yes Claude, you did." Helena laughs softly against her shoulder.

"Oh crap. I didn't interrupt anything, did I? Oh man I am so so sorry. Forget I called."

"Wait, Claudia, what? What do you mean interrupting?"

"You and HG." Claudia says like it should be obvious and Myka groans as she realizes it has been. They hadn't been overly touchy feely at work but they hadn't stayed away from each other either. Lingering glances and teasing smiles would have been seen aplenty.

"Yeah we know. It's okay though. I would want to keep HG to myself too." Claudia babbles, tone as though they were making casual conversation and Myka isn't lying in bed naked with Helena curled around her. As though she has read her thoughts Helena's expression turns wicked and she places feather light kisses on Myka's jaw. She makes eye contact and grins, before moving her head down and kissing her way across her collarbone.

"Goodbye Claudia." Is all she can get out before she shuts off the call and throws the cell somewhere in her room. Well, their room.

Several hours and a long shower later they arrive at the park. They're not at hers this time round, something Myka takes as a blessing. But dusk is falling as they make their way through the trees, Myka grumbling all the while.

"This better be good Claude."

"Oh it is. It most definitely is!" The teen sings, hopping in front of them, arms empty as she throws them above her head. "Hurry up!" She cries before taking off from sight. Jinks sighs noisily through his nose and readjusts the bag that is slipping off his shoulder. "Shoulda made her take the stuff." He grumbles good naturedly.

It is another ten minutes before they are all set up, blankets spread and food opened. Just in time too, as fireworks explode across the night sky, leaving behind a trail of colors in their wake. Helena, nestled in Myka's lap, is wonderstruck, and Myka can't help a giggle at the childlike look of wonderment that adorns her face. She turns to look back at Myka. "Look!" She waves to the sky.

Myka laughs. "You'll miss them." She warns and Helena turns back quickly to watch as reds and golds light up the sky. So she presses a light kiss to her neck and rests her head on Helena's shoulder, content to be living in this time right here and now.


End file.
